To Whom It May Concern
by theasbofive
Summary: It's times like this when Beca seriously wonders what's going through Jesse's head; it's the twenty first century, they have phones, they do not need to be communicating through post-its, thank you very much. [A series of short one-shots, semi-canon]
1. one - and so it begins

**I'm sorry, I really, really am, I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE. I just wanted to write some Beca/Jesse fluff and, well, this happened. :(**

* * *

**O**NE

Beca's not at all surprised when she walks into the radio station for her shift and sees a juice pouch haphazardly slotted between the M and the Ns. What she is surprised to see though is that when she pulls the juice pouch out – with a roll of her eyes because seriously, she's known him for nearly one and a half years now and Jesse still insists that 'juice is their thing' [it's not, it's really not] – is that he's attached a post-it to it and has scribbled a note on it in his perfect, cursive, almost girly-looking script [she's banned from ever bringing up the fact that his parents made him take calligraphy classes up until he was fifteen…and _definitely_ banned from suggesting that he enjoyed it, maybe even loved it. Because he clearly did, the dork.]

_To Whom It May Concern [aka Beca] –_

_If you're reading this and I'm not there yet, it means I'm probably going to be late [yes, I know, I'm late again; don't roll your eyes at me, Mitchell] so…do your awesome, charming, incredibly handsome boyfriend a favour and distract Luke until I arrive? :) _

_- Jesse [aka YOUR FAVOURITE PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD]_

She rolls her eyes.

She will do no such thing.

His ego needs to be taken down a notch. Or two. Or _five_.

"Luke," she calls out towards the booth, her voice instantly grabbing the British boy's attention, Jesse's post-it still clutched in her hands, "Jesse's going to be late."

Luke glances at her, walking over, leaning against the doorframe as he frowns, shaking his head lightly. "That boy will be the end of me," he says, his disapproval clear in the tone of his voice, "Why on Earth did I ever hire him?"

Beca shrugs, ever so slightly amused by the way the two boys _still_ can't get along [she's pretty convinced, on Jesse's part, that it's because he's jealous of Luke's abs and—okay, that's another subject she's banned from talking about. Doesn't mean she has to listen to him though and of course, she never does. Teasing him, watching him squirm, it's way too much fun].

"Don't worry," she tells Luke reassuringly as she walks over towards the table to grab a stack of CDs; Luke may let her take the night shift occasionally but it doesn't mean she's above stacking CDs [unfortunately], "I feel _exactly_ the same way."

…except it comes out a little flat because it's not true, not at all.

[Unless he's in the middle of forcing her to watch some sappy, romantic comedy that he really has way too many of and then moaning at her when he's the only one that ends up teary eyed…but, uh, that never happened._ Obviousl_y.]

"Well, at least this means that I won't be in fear of walking in on you two having sex on the desk," Luke says casually, his lips quirking up in amusement, "After all, I've been burned before."

"What? We would never," she replies, as convincingly as she can manage, but she can feel herself flushing and Luke's staring between her and the desk, _his_ desk, with an absolutely horrified expression on his face so she quickly changes the subject.

[Stupid Jesse and his stupid ideas; no, seriously, the whole thing had been a stupid idea, she had ended up with splinters in places that splinters should never be and it had hurt—and okay, maybe it was partly her fault too; after all, she hadn't exactly stopped him, had she?]

"Jesse," she repeats, getting Luke's attention once more, though the boy still looks rather dazed and traumatised by the revelation that his precious desk has been defiled once again, "_Jesse is late."_

And okay, maybe she feels a little guilty for throwing him under the bus [again] in an attempt to distract Luke…but hey, it's his own fault for actually _pinching_ her last night when she had - inevitably - fallen asleep on his shoulder during the 'The Lord Of The Rings' marathon that he had insisted that they had.

It's been one and a half years and Jesse still forces her to have weekly 'moviecations' with him…although, sure, maybe he doesn't actually have to force her anymore; she doesn't mind them so much, she might even _like_ them, just not when he's making her watch the entire 'The Lord Of The Rings' trilogy in one sitting and, because he's Jesse and he has the extended Blu-ray edition, it's over twelve hours long.

_Twelve_ hours. Twelve hours of elves and dwarfs and _hobbits_ and—ugh, she's shuddering even thinking about it.

"Hey, Luke, Beca," she hears from behind her and both of them turn to see Jesse bounding towards them, a grin on his face, as always. "What's up?"

Luke narrows his eyes at the boy, shaking his head in disapproval as he simply turns away and walks back into the booth, and Beca can't help but smirk at the way Jesse's grin falters a little as he pales, instantly whipping his head around to glare at her, his glare only intensifying when he sees that she's retrieved his post-it from her pocket, waving it around at him nonchalantly [except it's Jesse and his glares are only mildly terrifying...]

"_Beca!_ I told you to distract him!"

"Shouldn't have pinched me last night then, should you?" she says, leaning against the shelf as she raises an eyebrow, arms crossed, rolling her eyes at him in amusement as he pouts at her, his eyes as wide as they can go, "Why are you late, anyway? Benji, again?"

Jesse nods in response, a slightly pained look passing across his face as he grabs the stack of CDs from her hands and starts stacking, "I don't know how but he managed to get one of his swords _stuck in the wall_," he explains, "But that's beside the point. I can't believe you didn't distract Luke for me; you know how much he hates me, he's probably in there crafting up the most intricate, ridiculous lunch order for me to get him later."

She rolls her eyes again [though she guesses Jesse's fears are justified; Luke has been known to mess with his head like that..._boys_], smoothing out his post-it and scanning it as she replies. "I'm sorry," she says, "Guess you're just not as awesome or charming or incredibly handsome as you think."

He raises an eyebrow, gives her a challenging look, and she swallows as suddenly he's right in front of her, his breath warm on her cheek. "Are you sure about that?" he says, leaning in even further, until his face is just millimetres from hers and if she just moves slightly—

_No_, he's not winning this.

"Yep," she says instead, as she pushes him away and she laughs as he pouts at her again, refusing to budge despite her attempts. Sometimes she hates her height…or rather, her complete lack of it.

"I'm not moving," he tells her and she rolls her eyes but concedes, grabbing his shirt and reaching up to press her lips to his but before she knows it, he's pulled away and she glances up at him, a confused expression on her face.

"Say it," he says, but he's laughing, his eyes sparkling at her, "_Say it_, Beca."

She sighs.

Rolls her eyes.

"Okay, you're awesome, charming and incredibly handsome," she tells him, as sarcastically as she can manage when he's _so close_ to her, "Happy now?"

Jesse grins, satisfied, leaning over to kiss her again before he turns away to start stacking CDs. She smiles at his retreating back, biting back a laugh as he begins singing to himself, adding in some exaggerated hip movements as he moves in time with the music.

"What's with the post-it, by the way?" she asks him, as she grabs a stack of CDs and moves to stand beside him, absentmindedly reading the back of the CD on the top of the pile, "You know you could have just texted me, right?"

He just shrugs at her as he gently takes the CD that she's now struggling to place on one of the higher shelves and does it for her. "What would be the fun in that?" he asks, with a grin that's a little _too _wide and she groans.

She knows what that means. She's going to get bombarded with post-its. It's going to be their _'new thing_'.

Jesse just laughs at the unamused expression on her face, nudging her in the ribs with his elbow repeatedly until finally, she cracks, rolling her eyes at him. He's a dork and yes, he made her sit through twelve hours of weird fantasy action last night [or tried to, anyway] ...but hey, she'll keep him.

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**Oh man, this is so unbelievably random but it didn't fit under any of my other B/J fics so yeah, posting it separately, let me know what you think? :)  
**

**[PS – Uh, I guess if any of you have any 'post-it' message suggestions, throw them at me and I _promise_ I will write something for it; the crazier the better, I'm open to absolutely everything, doesn't have to be in the radio station... :)]**


	2. two - a letter of apology

**Prompt: **_Maybe they have a fight or something and Jesse does a crazy apology through a series of post-its? _[MissLiv]

**[I realise that this is probably not what you were expecting but this is the first thing that came into my head and I didn't feel like writing angsty J/B so yeah, I'm sorry! Hope it's okay though?]**

* * *

**T**WO

She isn't mad at him. Really, she's not.

But she isn't exactly over the moon either.

He had _promised_ to control himself, promised to not get too drunk with the other Trebles…but here he is, completely wasted at two o'clock in the morning, wildly waving around a marble he had found on the floor outside [or so he claims...]. Don't get her wrong, Jesse's more than welcome to have a good time with the guys and on any other day, she wouldn't have minded, wouldn't have even blinked an eye, but when she has her Philosophy midterm in exactly eight hours that she really needs to be studying for, well, she sort of doesn't want to be spending her night making sure that Jesse doesn't choke himself to death on a stupid marble.

"It's a _magic_ marble," he says to her, bouncing on her bed excitedly, a lopsided grin on his face as he beams at her, holding the marble up high as if it holds all the answers to all of life's questions, "It has superpowers, Beca. It's like Benji but in…marble form!"

She rolls her eyes, sighs, closes her book, knowing that there's no way she's going to be able to revise with him in her room in this state; she knows from past experience that on a scale of one to ten, Jesse's like a _fifteen_ when it comes to being an impossible drunk, getting weirdly attached to inanimate objects and refusing to shut up.

[After all, who can forget that one time when he had almost started bawling after she had successfully pried him away from a tree he had 'made friends with' in an attempt to get him home and in his bed? She definitely can't...and naturally, she makes sure that Jesse can't either.]

"Benji doesn't have superpowers," she remarks dryly and even though she sort of wants to be mad at him for breaking his promise, she can't help but smile at the way he frowns at her words, an utter look of concentration on his face as he lifts the marble up to his right eye, examining it curiously. "Benji's just good at close-up magic."

She blinks, leaning back in her chair as Jesse suddenly gets up from the bed and walks over to her, still waving that damn marble around. "Can you see its magic powers now?" he asks, as he takes her words literally and holds it really _close-up_ to her face until he's dangerously near to poking her in the eye with it.

It's going to be a long night.

[Still, he's more entertaining than Philosophy will ever be so whatever, she can deal with this.]

* * *

Beca's more than a little surprised when she comes back from her Philosophy exam [which, thankfully for the dork and his stupid marble, went okay] and spies what looks like a juice pouch taped to her door—actually, no, she's not that surprised.

This _is _Jesse, after all.

As soon as she reaches her door, she slowly peels it off, rolling her eyes as she sees that Jesse has carefully attached multiple neon-coloured post-its to it, quickly raising an eyebrow in disbelief as she scans the first one and sees how he's addressed her and _oh_, she is going to kill him.

Maybe.

[Okay, maybe not.]

_To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person — _

_I'm so sorry for last night; really, I am.  
_

_— From__ your favourite drunk ever…or not._  


Beca rolls her eyes. Only Jesse Swanson, the dork, would attempt to apologise with a juice pouch and multi-coloured post-its and god, he is so lucky she's not actually that mad at him right now or he'd find his precious movie collection mysteriously rearranged in _non-alphabetical _order [the horror!]...although, okay, she has a feeling that this has nothing to do with luck whatsoever and that he knows her well enough to know that she's not that pissed at him but _whatever_.

[She's learnt the hard way that she should never joke about messing up his movie collection to his face; the last time she had unknowingly slipped it into a conversation, he had been so horrified that he had spluttered at her for a good ten minutes, his arms flailing ridiculously by his side, unable to get any words out, before spending a whole hour and eighteen minutes - yes, she timed - lecturing her on the importance of keeping DVDs in the correct order so they were easy to find [or something like that; she stopped properly listening after about two minutes, more amused by the way he was getting redder and redder as he continued]...and yeah, she's definitely not trying that again.]

_To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —  
_

_I swear I'll make it up to you. I SWEAR._

___— From your favourite drunk ever…or not.  
_

Beca sighs, biting her lip at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation before promptly peeling it off and moving on to the one underneath...but she can't help but be a little touched by the fact that he's gone to so much effort to write all these out.

_To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —  
_

_But for now, as a peace offering, I give you this._

_— From your favourite drunk ever…or not.  
_

She blinks at the bold arrow drawn at the bottom of the post-it before she rolls her eyes in realisation, seeing that he's attempted to tape the marble, _his precious marble,_ to the bottom of the juice pouch...but he hasn't done a very good job of it and it's hanging off it precariously and any second now, it's going to fall onto the floor, causing a potential tripping hazard. She shakes her head, a half-amused smile on her face as she rips the marble off and sticks it in her pocket and moves on to the final post-it.

_To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —  
_

_By the way, I hope you notice that none of these post-its are pink; I figured you would appreciate my apology more if they were on, uh, more 'Beca-coloured' post-its so I went for yellow and green instead. :)  
_

_— From your favourite drunk ever...or not._

Beca rolls her eyes yet again, squinting a little as she sees that someone else has scribbled a rather lengthy note underneath Jesse's, their words all squished together:

_[Hi Beca, it's Benji. Jesse wanted to keep writing post-its for you but I sort of need them for my project so I took them away from him - sorry! Also, Jesse told me to break down your door and place this on your bed but I thought that you wouldn't appreciate that so I've just left it here, hope that's okay!] _

Okay, she can't help herself, she has to say it: sometimes Jesse is _such_ a weirdo.

Without wasting any time, she quickly walks over to his dorm room, pushing open the door and telling him exactly that. Because he needs to know. She has only told him that a million and forty three times, after all. [No, that is not an exact number; unlike Jesse, she's not a weirdo and—okay, moving on].

"I'm not a weirdo," Jesse insists half-heartedly, looking completely pathetic as he turns his head to glance at her from his position on his bed, his arms flung out to either side, clearly still recovering from his hangover.

"Yes, you really are," she replies, but she moves to stand beside him anyway, letting him pull her down to his level because he's looking so helpless lying there and okay, maybe she liked his little post-it apology more than she'd ever admit...

"Okay, maybe I am a weirdo," he admits, smiling triumphantly as she settles herself beside him, lying back onto his pillow, "But hey, you put up with me anyway."

"_Unfortunately_," she says, but she burrows a little closer to him until her head's resting on his shoulder and it's strange but she thinks she can feel him smiling as he gently presses his lips to the top of her head. She starts to smile back but then she suddenly remembers something he had written on his post-its and she turns her head upwards so that she can see him properly, narrowing her eyes in his direction, smirking a little as he swallows, "I'm your 'favourite sarcastic, _miniature _person'?"

He shrugs.

"It fits," he says. "You're sarcastic. You're miniature—and _ouch, _okay, I take it back! You're not that short, you're not short at all. You, Beca Mitchell, you are very tall, you're like, the _tallest_," he hastily amends, as she reaches over and starts prodding him in the ribs really hard in response.

She does not take jokes about her height lightly, even if they're coming from Jesse—no, _especially_ if they're coming from Jesse.

"I really am sorry for last night," he tells her, once she's stopped attacking him, and he sounds so earnest and apologetic that even if she was mad [which she isn't, not really], she's sure she would have forgiven him in a heartbeat, "l'll make it up to you, I promise. I won't mention movies for a whole week?"

Beca blinks. Does a double-take. She doesn't think that it's even _possible_ for Jesse to do that.

"Seriously?"

"No."

She rolls her eyes, giving him a shove, laughing as he lets out a squeal of surprise that he quickly and awkwardly turns into a cough as he almost falls off the bed.

"Smooth," she tells him, but she's still laughing and it doesn't come out as sarcastic as she had intended it to, "That was _really smooth_."

Jesse just grins back, manoeuvring himself back onto the bed again, sliding his arm under her head and around her shoulders as he presses his lips to her cheek. She smiles, turning into him as she sticks her hand into her pocket, her hands curling around the marble that's inside and it's weird and a little scary but she thinks that there's nowhere else she'd rather be in this moment—

—That is, until seconds later when he's suddenly grabbing his laptop from his bedside table, loading up another one of the many rom-coms he has stored there. [It's a serious problem of his.]

"Dude, no, we're not watching a movie," she says, shaking her head at him adamantly as she tries to close his laptop screen but he just smiles widely at her, skilfully repelling all her attempts, quickly grabbing her hand and interlacing their fingers, pressing yet another kiss to her cheek and...okay, _whatever_, she can let him have his one movie_._

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**Mhm, let me know what you think? Review/leave me prompts and I'll love you FOREVER. :D [yes, drunk!Jesse and trees are totally my OTP ;)]**

**PS - If the person from CB who asked if I was 'afraid' of writing fluff is reading this: no, I'm not afraid, THIS IS FLUFF! [admittedly, it's not great fluff...but it still counts. I think.]**


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